


Faith

by notjustmom



Series: Love, Hope and Faith [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eurus POV, Gen, spoilers for The Lying Detective, tld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Eurus' perspective on the evening she spent with Sherlock.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim always knew she wouldn't be able to stay away, and he had warned her, "Eurus, darlin' girl, Sherlock is not Mycroft, he is quite human, and though not quite as clever as he thinks he is, he is dangerous, so be careful, my dear."

His words came back to her as she observed her brother turning the note over in his long, beautiful, but shaking fingers. He had their father's hands. He was working through his deductions slowly, stopping, then starting again; she had heard he no longer took cases, but he had put a name to her face when he had finally opened his door to her.

"Faith Smith. Interesting."

"Interesting, why?"

"Hmmm?

"Why am I interesting?"

He looked her over, pulled his robe around himself and shrugged. "Was hoping you might be, that's all. Might as well come in...tea?" She shook her head and rattled off her own deductions of him in her head, and though she had never held a sentimental thought in her head, all she could sense from him was pain. Soul - crushing, mind - melting pain. His pet had caused all that devastation. Damn, Jim had been right. 

"You're here because...a problem? Hmmm....nope. A question...three years old? That is interesting. Sit, if you like, noo, not that chair. Only....someone....else used to sit there. Doesn't anymore..."


	2. "Keep your scars..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this bit explains why John doesn't know about Sherlock's scars. Three little words. 
> 
> Keep your scars.

"Will you take my case?" Eurus asked him, knowing the answer would be...

"No. It's too weird, try the police, they are better equipped to deal with this sort of thing...I need a cuppa tea."

Interesting. Yes. Sherlock was definitely, most definitely, not boring.

"You're my last hope."

"Well, that's too bad, bye-bye."

 

"Wait. Your hem...that's what I noticed. Had to catch up with my brain, it's really quite fast..."

"My what?"

"Sorry, your dress had been caught on the passenger side, that's what I noticed. No car, no coat, and you didn't phone for a taxi, it's raining, and you have...a gun in your handbag...no, keep your scars, but thank you for the confirmation. Chips!"

"What?" Eurus was utterly transfixed. Her brother was concerned for her. After all she had done to him. Of course, he didn't know, he was simply being kind to a stranger, a client, one who he had rejected, but he still cared...

"You're just suicidal. You're allowed chips, they are one of the few perks...Mrs. Hudson, I'm going out!"


	3. Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't have the scene memorised as yet, but I'm trying to get her sense of the evening more than the precise order of events...

Eurus closed her eyes, and let her other senses explore for a moment. The patter of the rain seemed to dance with Sherlock's cascade of words, the salty warmth of the chip clashed with the sweetness of the catsup...Sherlock paused in his gentle ramble, and she sighed, "amazing."

"I know," her brother grinned back.

"I meant the chips," she teased carefully. She looked down, afraid of how he would react, but to her astonishment, he snorted, and when she turned back, he was smiling. She had made her brother smile. Oh. Somehow she knew he hadn't smiled a lot recently, too many hard losses, but for a split second, his eyes glittered and the pain receded before he remembered.

"Damn..." Sherlock spun at the interruption, the tell-tale sounds of his brother's machinery at work. 

"Big Brother is watching..."

"Literally. Let's go for a walk." Eurus tried to breathe normally, but she found it difficult as Sherlock led her on a merry game of hide and seek from Mycroft. All these years, was it truly this simple? If she had just shown up at Baker Street years ago and told him, would he have been this -

"You're sweet." She whispered near his shoulder as they strolled together.

"I'm not sweet, just high."

She giggled at him, and asked how he knew about the window. She knew he loved to explain things, show off, but with her, he was gentle, as he walked her through the size of her 'kitchen.' He really was good; she loved watching his brain at work, and he moved like the dancer she knew he had always wanted to be, she suddenly had a flash of him dancing in the kitchen at Musgrave, simply spinning and spinning and -

"Come on, this way." He motioned her to follow him.

"What are we doing?"

"It's a plan, a plan....a plan."

"Are we going to walk all night?"

"Well, it is a long word."

"What is?" She bit her lip in confusion.

"Bollocks." He laughed again, and she smiled at his joke. She finally had what she had wanted all of her life; Sherlock's undivided attention for just a few minutes. Her chest hurt for a brief moment, but then she refocused and found peace in his determined profile. "This way."


	4. The Bridge

She watched him sink slowly into the bench and close his eyes. Over the years, she had collected images of him, though he tended to avoid the press and cameras in general, there were press conferences and then all the media attention after he jumped...she had thought him what most people would call beautiful, she didn't understand beauty, but there was something in all the angles that calmed her. In his present unkempt condition, she thought him even more interesting...

"I'm going to take your case," he murmured, as he focused on something she couldn't see. "Know why?"

She shook her head. "Why?"

"The one impossible thing you said. You said your life was changed forever because of a single word."

She narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, "yes, a word I can't remember."

"But you said it was a name, names are always two words...Sherlock Holmes, Faith Smith, Winston Churchill, Napolean Bonaparte...okay...Napolean would work..."

"Elvis?"

"Mmmm...but I think we can safely say it was neither of them," he turned and grinned at her, and she felt an overwhelming urge to push his greasy curls from his face. 

"But I don't work for free."

"Do you take cash?"

The look in his eyes made her want to look away, but she couldn't.

He held out his hand. "Not cash, no." She nodded, opened her handbag and handed over the gun. He grimaced as he stood, then made his way to the railing, weaving only slightly.

"Taking your own life...what does that mean? Taking it from whom? You can't take it from yourself, your own death doesn't affect you, just those you leave behind...it isn't your own, keep your hands off it." She kept her eyes on him, knowing he was asking for a reason, something to keep him here, when it would be so much easier...

"You're not what I expected...you're nicer..."

"Nicer than who?" His voice was tattered and hoarse, but he needed her to keep talking, he slipped to the pavement and leaned against the railing.

"Nicer than what I thought you'd be, nicer than anyone...anyone..." It took everything she had not to go to him, it was what people did, she supposed. But she knew it was time, time to go.

"Faith? Faith!"


End file.
